


Someone You Loved

by cynicalkairos



Series: Jealousy [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: :), :))), Angst with a Happy Ending, Daydreaming, F/M, Feelings Realization, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jealousy, M/M, Pancakes, Post-Episode: s05e16 Yang 3 in 2D, Song: Someone You Loved (Lewis Capaldi), The Author Regrets Everything, Unrequited Crush, rip his heart, well not for Lassie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalkairos/pseuds/cynicalkairos
Summary: After accidentally witnessing Shawn and Juliet in the interrogation room and finding out about their relationship, Carlton realizes two things and doesn't realize one crucial thing.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Series: Jealousy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096226
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Someone You Loved

**Author's Note:**

> Based on "Someone You Loved" by Lewis Capaldi
> 
> Episode Tag: Season 5 Episode 16 "Yang 3 in 2D"

A coffee cup. He went to retrieve his coffee cup. 

But, no, Carlton’s life is never that simple.

He had to walk in on… Spencer and O’Hara having a moment? 

Staring through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room, Carlton’s jaw fell open. He couldn’t believe the scene that was unfolding before him.

How long had this been going on? More importantly, how long had this been going on under his nose? How long had the two been sneaking around, meeting other in the nighttime, sneaking each other kisses in the station—

How long had he been so clueless?

Under those tormenting questions, three distinct emotions hid in the back of his mind.

The first (obviously): shock.

Of course, they were in a relationship. How could he not see this coming? He’s the head detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department. He should have noticed the psychic and his junior detective getting closer and closer. Well, he did notice that, but he thought it was— you know, in a friend way like friends do.

And Carlton knew that Spencer had a thing for his junior detective. He couldn’t deny it. She was attractive in a pretty girl-next-door type of way. Definitely not his type, but he could see her fitting others’. Spencer’s definitely.

But the fact that she reciprocated his feelings enthralled him. Carlton thought O’Hara was smart enough not to fall for such an idiot, a man that continuously makes a fool of himself no matter the circumstances.

But, then again, Spencer did have a certain… charm about him. He could make anyone believe anything, even the head detective himself if he wasn’t paying enough attention.

The second: hurt.

Carlton thought that he and O’Hara were at least acquaintances— more than just co-workers or partners in his opinion. Friends even, but only if she thought of him in the same way.

He had been there in some of her worst moments and she had been there during his. He disobeyed the Chief’s orders to go save her off of a clock tower. She stood by his side during the Drimmer case when all evidence pointed toward him.

It hurt him that she wouldn’t trust him with this important information. All of their trust that they built over the last five years was tossed down the drain and destroyed the vicious metal spikes of a garbage disposal. 

Carlton trusted her with personal details from his own life and this very well seemed like a detail that should be shared partner-to-partner— friend-to-friend.

On the other hand, he knew why she wouldn’t tell him. He wasn’t the most pleasant person on the planet and he was very familiar with that undesirable trait of his. It was the nagging voice that echoed in the back of his head. It told him things such as him never finding love ever again because he was a worthless fuck-up or him perpetually being the disappointment and nothing ever being good enough.

Watching as Spencer’s hand drifted over to O’Hara’s and landed on it gently, lovingly, Carlton felt his heart clench in an unsuspected way. It made all of the air escape his lungs like he was punched in the stomach, which, from experience, wasn’t fun.

 _He chose her_ , the quiet, yet unforgiving voice echoed. _Shawn chose her over you._

Carlton quickly shook away that thought and scoffed at himself. That was in no way true. 

The third emotion Carlton couldn’t quite place.

It felt as rough as anger.

Even though he couldn’t place if it was directed at himself, Shawn and Juliet, or just the entire world, he felt the boiling hot emotion pumping the blood through his veins with every hearty thud of his beating heart. 

There was nothing the detective wanted more to do than storm out of there and into the shooting range, unleashing rounds of bullets into one of the paper targets until there was nothing left: paper, emotions, or anything. 

Differently to the fiery emotion, there was a deep pit settling into the depths of his stomach.

It was heavy, weighing him down and preventing him from doing anything he wanted to do before. All he could do was watch and let the emotion eat him alive. Whatever emotion that was.

Carlton then made the mistake of imaging the beginnings of their relationship unfold. 

_It was probably in the station_ , that same dark voice continued. _Merely a few feet in front of your desk._

The picture then started to form in his mind, the scene appearing in color, HD, and surround sound.

_Shawn walked up to Juliet’s desk and talked to her about some absurd topic with some sickeningly charming one-liner. He probably flashed his stupid smile and made her blush and laugh._

_Then, when Juliet stood up to leave, walking by Shawn with the hint of a smirk, the psychic grabbed her wrist, turned her around, and kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms slid around her waist._

_It was short and sweet, but that was enough to convey their feelings to each other._

_They parted. Shawn mumbled some inane response against her lips, causing more laughter to ensue. Then they both leaned forward again and—_

Pulled back into reality, Carlton watched as Spencer then pressed a gentle kiss onto Juliet’s knuckles and then lips and left the room, going on about something that was utterly incomprehensible to the bewildered detective.

He had no idea why his heart was suddenly racing or that pit in his stomach grumbled and somehow got heavier. He mindlessly wandered out of the tiny room, scratching the back of his neck and willing himself to not think about this situation any longer.

He made his way to his desk and sat down, setting the mug in front of him.

This one object. This one, singular object destroyed his entire world and made him reevaluate everything.

Sliding his fingertip along the rim, Carlton leaned his head into his hand, his eyes never leaving the mug.

Maybe it’s— no, it couldn’t be that. There’s no way. He wasn’t— No. 

Spencer was intolerable, unyielding, infuriating, and there were so many more adjectives he could use to describe the man.

But attractive? 

Sure, Shawn had strong features, a nice build, a shockingly bright smile, confidence that could last anyone else a lifetime, an eccentric, but intelligent brain hidden behind the charades and theatrics, and wits that kept him on his toes. It was oddly exhilarating being around someone who could not only keep up with you but best you at times, no matter how aggravating it could be.

Carlton froze, his finger halting on the smooth ceramic, as the realization hit him.

_I'm into Spencer._

“Hey, Lassie!” A familiar voice that he definitely didn’t want to hear at the moment piped up from afar. “Didn’t know you were still here. I thought the Chief forced you to take the morning off.”

Carlton looked up to see Spencer approaching him, two bags in his hands. Time flies when you’re contemplating your relationships.

He instantly sat up and placed the mug on the corner of his desk in a panic. However, he just hoped that his face didn’t show that.

“Crime doesn’t stop just because we caught one major serial killer, Spencer.” Clearing his throat, Lassiter then continued by saying, “Besides, I’m just finishing up the paperwork for the case before I head out.”

“Are you sure about that?” The psychic looked at his desk, devoid of any paper, and frowned. “Looks like you’re doing a whole bunch of nothing over there.”

“Well—” The detective started gruffly, looking at his empty desk in front of him to find an excuse. “That’s because I _am_ finished. I’m just waiting on O’Hara’s statement.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Spencer relented, eyeing him warily. The head detective knew that the psychic could see right through him with that astounding ability of his, even if it had nothing to do with being a psychic. Then his focus turned to the interrogation rooms and he leaned back to look down that way. “Speaking of Jules, do you know if she’s done with her statement yet? I brought her pancakes with extra blueberries in them.”

That toiling pit lurched deeper into his stomach at the mention of her name, the sudden drop startling him. 

For a brief moment there, Carlton forgot that the two of them were in a relationship, that he wasn’t oblivious to the world around him, that he wasn’t too late. 

He then shook his head slowly, turning his gaze to one of the many pencils on his desk and adjusting it as a distraction. “I hate to tell you, but I believe she’s still in there.”

“Oh, okay. Can I leave these with you? Gus and I are going to—”

“Sure,” Lassiter said quickly to stop the other man from talking endlessly about his day plans, _even though he would love to hear them_. “I will… just take them to her later. Don’t want to interrupt her.”

Spencer nodded and started to head off when he spun back around. “I didn't know if you were hungry, but—”

"I'm good," he sputtered out his automated response, not looking up at the psychic. "I have a Cliff Bar in my bag."

"Well, if you change your mind, we got you some pancakes too." 

The detective raised an eyebrow and eyed the second bag. "What are we talking?"

Seeing that he piqued the other man's interest, Spencer's smile somehow widened. "Bananas Foster." 

Lassiter frowned instantly and checked the bag to ensure that he was telling the truth. “How did you—”

He only put his fingers to the side of his head and smirked, the amusement evident on his face.

“Get out of here, Spencer.” Lassiter rolled his eyes and then softened, smiled a bit, saying awkwardly, “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problemo, Lassie-face,” the psychic replied with a wide, stupidly charming smile, before strutting out of the building. 

The detective couldn’t help but watch him exit. His heart was racing and his face felt hot when he looked back into the bag with his favorite pancakes. God, they even smelled like how his mother made them when he was a kid.

Carlton then shook his head when his eyes landed on the other bag, filled with a multitude of blueberry pancakes. Then that damn pit returned.

 _Shawn didn't get pancakes for you,_ the voice in his head whispered. _He got pancakes for O'Hara and then felt bad so he got pancakes for you as well._

That dark, gruesome pit churned in his stomach, almost completely ruining his appetite all together. Now, looking at the Bananas Foster and smelling the cinnamon and brown sugar, he felt like he was about to throw up. 

The bile rushed to the back of his throat and Carlton forced it down upon hearing the click of O’Hara’s heels on the linoleum flooring.

He looked up to see the shaken junior detective holding her statement in her hand. She handed it to him and folded her hands in front of her. Then she said quietly, “I think I got everything.”

“Thanks.” He nodded and took the file, glancing at it for a preliminary check. “I’ll look over it later.”

“What do you have there?”

Lassiter looked back at the bags after setting the folder in his tray. “Spencer dropped this off for you. They’re pancakes, I believe.”

Receiving the bag, O’Hara perked up with a large smile on her face and looked inside eagerly, seeing the contents inside. “Oh, I love blueberry pancakes!”

The head detective smiled, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on his chin. He liked seeing her happy and he decided that, if Spencer supposedly made her happy, it was enough for him.

“What’s in yours?” O’Hara’s voice chimed into his thoughts as she examined the other plastic bag in front of him. 

“Bananas Foster.” Lassiter gestured to the bag and then smiled to himself. “Those two idiots managed to guess my favorite topping.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, the light in her eyes shined with happiness and amusement. “Well, maybe, Shawn’s just psychic.”

“Please, the day I admit he’s psychic is the day I buy a snow globe for every room of my apartment.”

“Come on, you have to give him some credit.”

“It was probably just a lucky guess.”

O’Hara rolled her eyes at his obstinate ways and grabbed his bag along with hers. “Forget the paperwork. We’re gonna eat by the beach.”

“I can’t just leave in the middle of my shift—”

O’Hara didn’t have to say a word, before Chief Vick yelled as she passed by them, hearing their conversation from down the hallway, “O’Hara! Please take him!”

Triumphantly, the junior detective turned back to Lassiter and gestured to the door. “You need a break too, you know.”

 _Boy, don’t you know it_ , the voice sounded, booming around his head and giving him a headache.

“I’ll give you one hour—”

“Two.”

“One and a half?”

“Fine,” O’Hara agreed as she watched the head detective throw on his suit jacket. “An hour and a half, it is.”

Carlton smiled brightly at the invitation and the insisting, even though that didn’t match his feelings or the gnawing, dark pit on the inside, and nodded. “Lead the way.”

Then he let her lead him out the door. 

There wasn’t anything the head detective loved more in the world than his two side arms, but surprisingly O’Hara turned out to be a close contender. She reminded him a lot of his little sister, young, optimistic, and hard-working. 

Despite how much that pit in his stomach twisted and churned in his stomach, his relationship with O’Hara was more important to him than any romantic relationship he could ever get into.

Walking beside her as she rattled on about something in her life, he realized one more thing: there was no way in hell he was going to let Spencer screw this one up.


End file.
